


Bittersweet

by pony_express



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, contains drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 15:19:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2155422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pony_express/pseuds/pony_express
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wants some drugs, an old man with a 'case' might have the answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bittersweet

"I NEED A CASE!" Sherlock Holmes’ voice gradually got louder. He shifted in his seat, leg twitching. He repeated the words through gritted teeth.

John Watson, he’s flat mate, and best mate, looked up from his newspaper, “You just solved one!”

Sherlock glared at John, he of all people should know Sherlock’s mind. Sherlock needed something to keep it occupied.

"Then drugs!" he announced with a too cheery tone.

"No!" John said almost instantly.

Sherlock sighed heavily, “A CASE!” he shouted.

"Sherlock?" It was Mrs Hudson. "Didn’t you hear the doorbell?"

Sherlock turned suddenly. He became as alert as a dog, ears and eyes wide. His whole face lit up, a case.

Mrs Hudson processed to show an elderly gentleman into the room. Sherlock’s eyes raked over the small, grey haired man. He wore a brown three piece and walked with a cane. John knew he was already deducing.

The man sat in Sherlock’s usual sit, much to the former’s dismay. John noted, and decided to take up the questioning.

Sherlock hissed, and John took the hint.

"I’ll get the tea in then," he said and left.

Sherlock eyed the man with suspicion. John knew that look and thought he should stay. Whispering to Mrs Hudson to get the tea, he kept an ear and eye to the door.

He watched from the small gap between the door and frame as Sherlock almost flew at the man. Sherlock whispered to the man. John was much too far away to hear what he was saying and couldn’t read Sherlock lips.

Sherlock was closer to the man than John had ever seen Sherlock with anyone.

"What’s new?" Sherlock whispered.

The man replied in an even smaller voice, choking out, “Don’t take your next case,”

"Why?" Sherlock replied a little louder, pulling back to a more comfortable position on the personal space scale.

The man titled his head and Sherlock resumed his position inches from the man’s face. John saw Sherlock nod, he didn’t see the man push a small needle into Sherlock’s sleeve. Sherlock thanked the man with a kiss on the cheek.

From his spying position in the hall John saw Sherlock get closer to the man and peck him softly on the cheek. John was taken aback, he’d never seen Sherlock be intimate anyone. He’d been shook some much he’d back into Mrs Hudson and a cup is knocked to the ground.

A smash from the hall diverts all their attentions. Sherlock jumped back, resuming the position he had when John left the room. He had his back turned to the ‘client’.

John began to make conversation, but Sherlock cut in.

"John, get him out."

John looked shocked. “But-?”

"I said out," Sherlock gradually grew louder.

"Sherlock!"

"John!" Sherlock retorted with a childish tone.

John sighed, “But-“

"Out!" Sherlock pointed to the door and turned his back to them both. He felt the needle bugle in his sleeve. He needed John out so he could indulge himself.

John followed Sherlock’s order but not without protesting. He took the elderly man under his arm and showed him out, apologising the whole way.

After John left, with a huge grin on his face, Sherlock lowered the needle from up his sleeve. He smelt the needle and felt a small rush, he knew that smell; knew the drug, knew what it would do to it.

Almost laughing, Sherlock rolled up his sleeve and pushed the needle into his arm. He was going to wait, wanting to savour the moment. He knew it wouldn’t be long before a new case, Mycroft had said, but he’d been warned against it. He never listened to his big brother anyway.

Having convinced himself he had no idea how long his mind would be without something to occupy it, Sherlock pushed down on the end of the needle and felt the drugs pump into his blood. He let out a sigh and laid back into his chair. He let the needle fall to the floor.

"Mycroft," he giggled.

When John came back into the room, Sherlock was in his chair, legs stretched out before him. He was breathing deeply, rhythmically, in, out, in, out. Slow and slower.

"What was all that about?" John demanded.

"Shush," Sherlock sighed, "I need to think of any excuse not to accept the next case,"

"What case?"

"I don’t know, the next case," Sherlock replied simply.

John looked confused. “That!” he pointed to the door, “That was your next case, and you-” John stopped, Sherlock was laughing. “What?”

Sherlock’s leg was shaking, and he’s breathing had slowed right down. These were signs to John that something was wrong.

"Are…Are you high?" he asked Sherlock while looking him up and down. "Where-Where did you get-"

Sherlock laughed again, “The British Government,”

John looked confused. Sherlock often blurted out random words but then it started to sink in. In turned to look out the window. He pointed in that direction and looked back to Sherlock.

"That…That was Mycroft?" he asked surprised.

"Mycroft," Sherlock laughed.

John shook his head. He had questions; lots of questions.

"Oh, I know," Sherlock smiled suddenly, "I’m high!" He grinned as he passed John, "How’s that for an excuse for not taking Lestrade’s case!"

John heard the doorbell; he reckoned it’ll be Lestrade. The next noise John heard was Sherlock shutting his door.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters borrowed without consent for personal, non-profit use. No copyright infringement intended.  
> First published: Jan. 11th, 2014 at my Livejournal


End file.
